


good for you

by mashed_potato_with_cheese



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Aftercare, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, F/M, Face-Sitting, Femdom, Fluff and Smut, No use of y/n, Praise Kink, Reader-Insert, Rope Bondage, Safe Sane and Consensual, Soft Bellamy Blake, Sub Bellamy Blake, fem!reader - Freeform, this is filthy but adorable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 16:47:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30125841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mashed_potato_with_cheese/pseuds/mashed_potato_with_cheese
Summary: in which Bellamy is good for you and he gets something good in returnthis is so self-indulgent tbh
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	good for you

Her hands are gentle as she wraps strips of fabric around my wrists to keep the rough rope from scraping. Eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed, concentration etched in her every feature. When she’s done, she gives me a gentle kiss. I sigh and let my eyes flutter closed, basking in her soft lips and the warmth of her body over mine. After a moment, she stands up. A whine escapes me at the loss of contact and she lets out a low laugh.

“Needy, are we?” she teases as she grabs the coils of rope. When I don’t respond, she clicks her tongue in a sound of disapproval that makes my stomach sink. “Use your words, Bellamy.” 

“I’m sorry,” I manage. She comes back to me with the rope and kneels on the bed, straddling my stomach.

“Give me your hands,” she orders. I immediately obey, stretching my arms out to her. “Why don’t you tell me your rules?” 

“I will not touch you without permission,” I begin shakily. “I will not come without permission. I will use my safe word if I need to.”

“Tell me your safe word.” She starts tying my wrists. It’s a basic wrist knot, one that she knows very well, and I marvel at her nimble fingers and quick skills. 

“Green for keep going, yellow for check-in, red for full stop,” I recite. 

“And non-verbal?”

“Two snaps for check-in, three snaps for full stop.” 

“Good boy,” she praises. I practically glow under her words and she smiles warmly, lovingly at me as she pushes my hands over my head and ties them to the bed frame.

“Are you comfortable?” she asks. “No pinching, pulling, or numbness?” I tug at the ropes a little bit, testing them, but I know they’ll be fine. My girl doesn’t mess up.

“All good,” I tell her. Just like that, we’re both back into character. 

It’s not always like this. Sometimes I’m in charge, sometimes she is. It depends on what we need. Today, she needed to remind herself that being in charge isn’t always a burden, and I needed to give up control for a little while. We’re still kids, really, despite all of the pressure on us. This is how we unwind, how we relax. Protecting and leading 98 teenage criminals is stressful at the best of times. In this tent, none of that exists. We have an unspoken agreement to leave that outside. Right now, in the makeshift bed, everything is good. 

Everything gets even better when she leans down and kisses me again, runs her hands over my bare chest, bites down gently on my bottom lip. I open up to her easily. She slips her tongue into my mouth, controlling the kiss, and I let her. I trust her to set the pace, to take her time. 

“You’re always so good for me, Bellamy,” she murmurs. “Such a good boy.” 

“Thank you,” I sigh as she lowers her head, dropping kisses down my jaw and to my neck. One of her hands comes up to massage the back of my neck and she bites down gently on the connection of my neck and shoulder. I moan breathily, making her smile against my skin. After a moment, she sits up. I whine again and tug involuntarily at the ropes, itching to get my hands on her skin. 

“Uh-uh,” she reprimands gently. “Hold still. Are you going to be good for me?”

“I’ll be good,” I promise, nodding fervently. She smiles and strokes my cheek with her knuckles. The intimacy of the gesture isn’t lost on either of us. I fight to keep still and not nuzzle against her hand. She runs her hand down my skin, from my face down to scrape her nails gently over my chest. 

“Look at you, baby,” she says, her gaze adoring. “You’re stunning, Bellamy, and you’ve been so good for me. Why don’t you tell me what you want?” She keeps her nails on my skin, a blunt sensation that sends warmth through me. With her on top of me, her hair loose, a small smile on her face, I’m struggling to form a coherent thought.

“I want-” I stutter out. “I want to be good for you.” She shakes her head and my heart sinks. I begin to apologize desperately, but she shushes me and I fall silent immediately. My mind is racing with thoughts, all of them negative. You failed her, it tells me. She’s disappointed.  “Bellamy,” she says gently, tilting my chin up and meeting my eyes. “Tell me what you’re thinking.” I want to shy away from her gaze, to bow my head down, but I fight the urge. The hand that isn’t holding my chin laces into my hair and scratches at my scalp wonderfully. 

“I don’t know how to be good for you right now,” I admit. Her eyes go sad for a moment and I feel even worse. Now I’ve upset  _ and _ disappointed her. 

“Oh, Bell, you are good,” she murmurs. I squint my eyes closed and turn my head, not accepting the praise. Her hands come back to my face, cupping it gently and pulling me closer to her. 

“Look at me, please,” she asks. Not a command. I obey anyway. Her face is soft and gentle and loving. “You are so good,” she repeats. “Get out of your head for a little while. I know it’s hard for you, but you can do it. Let’s try again, okay? Can you tell me what you want?” She keeps her hands on me and her face close to mine. I take a deep breath and try to get out of my head, like she said. She’s patient while I collect myself, waiting quietly for me to be ready. 

“I want to-” I pause, then try again. “Can I please get you off?” She beams at me and presses a kiss to my lips. 

“Very good, Bellamy,” she praises. “You can get me off however you want, okay?” I nod eagerly before she kisses me again. And Jesus, what a kiss. It’s absolutely filthy, tongue and teeth and soft moans. She sits up after a moment and I tug hard on the ropes, trying to get as close to her as possible. I stop soon after though, as she lifts her arms and raises her top over her head and tosses it to the floor. 

Christ. She looks like a fucking goddess. Still straddling me, her hair messy, pupils blown so wide her eyes are almost black, and now her perfect tits on display for me. She sits forward on her knees and tugs her pants down, wiggling and shifting until they’re off her ankles and discarded on the floor. 

“You’re beautiful,” I tell her reverently. I’m not exactly in the right headspace to be eloquent with my compliments. She’s here, and I want to see nothing but her, I want to breathe her air and feel her skin, I want to  _ touch _ her, but she hasn’t given me permission, and I can’t, not without permission. 

“Can I-” I stutter, trying to form a sentence. She gracefully cuts me off with a chaste kiss, barely a brush of her lips on mine, but it’s enough to heat up my entire body and send me chasing after more.

“Do you remember what I said, baby?” she asks gently. I wrack my brain.

“You said- you said I could get you off however I want,” I remember. She beams at me with pride and kisses me again. Good. I did good. I accept the kiss greedily, like a man in the desert finding a pool of water. 

“How do you want to get me off, Bellamy?” She guides me through a simple thought process with the patience of a saint. I pause. That’s a hard question. I love getting her off any way I can. My hands are tied right now and I’d like to keep them that way, so that limits things. 

“Can I go down on you?” I ask. “Please?” The shake of my voice is very evident, but I don’t care. All that matters is her response, if I did good or not. She smiles. My heart soars.

“So sweet,” she croons, stroking my cheek again. “Yes, Bellamy, you may.” With that, she crawls forward and settles her knees comfortably on either side of my head. I stifle a moan just at that because  _ holy fuck _ , finally, she’s letting me touch her and she smells incredible and she moves her hips a little bit above me, a silent invitation that I take gladly. 

I lift my head eagerly to meet her, licking into her and I swear that she is the sweetest thing I have ever tasted. Her fingers tangle in my hair wonderfully as she guides me exactly where she needs me. 

“Bellamy,” she sighs over and over, raking her fingernails across my scalp. I know her body better than I know my own, know what she likes, so I tease her carefully, build her up carefully so that when I finally find her clit she’s ready for it, perfectly twisting her hips with a high-pitched moan. 

“More, Bellamy,” she commands, and damn, if her voice isn’t strong as ever. I double down my efforts. After a little more gentle teasing, I finally suck at her clit, make it hard and slow so that her breath stutters, so she whimpers my name. It goes straight to my dick, but I barely notice. Everything is about her right now. 

“Tell me what you need,” I beg, desperate to get her off. 

“Harder,” she says simply, but her voice is shaky and I think I’m doing better. I get her clit back under my tongue, work it slow and hard with the flat of it. The thrusts of her hips become more erratic, faster, and her grip in my hair tightens. She’s close, very close, and I just need to tip her over the edge. I suck her clit into my mouth and hum softly. Her back arches above me, she’s right there, and as I flick my tongue over her she falls apart, hips shaking and my name falling from her lips over and over. 

She rides out her orgasm on my tongue before lifting herself off of me and sitting back on my abdomen. A lazy, fucked out smile dances across her lips but her eyes are sharp as ever. I catch my breath right along with her, still tasting her on my lips. 

“Oh, I made a mess,” she murmurs, leaning forward and kissing me, open-mouthed and dirty. I lean into her as much as I can while she kisses all around my face. After a moment, it registers that she’s cleaning her own arousal off of me, and my already painfully hard cock makes itself known. I fail to suppress a groan. She picks herself up off me at that and hover on her knees, right over my thighs. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I say frantically. My skin is cold where her lips just were and I desperately want them back. She cuts off my apologies quickly, palming me through my pants that are stupidly still on my body.

“I’m adding an extra rule, just for right now. No more apologies,” she tells me. “Can you remember that?” 

“Yes, I can remember,” I assure her, nodding fervently. 

“I know you can.” She starts to toy with my waistband as she continues. “You’ve been so good for me today, and I want to see if you can keep following your rules. Do you think you can do that?”

“I’ll follow the rules,” I promise. 

“Can you tell me your rules again, baby?”

“I will not touch you without permission. I will not come without permission. I will use my safe word if I need to.” I pause, then remember the new one. “No more apologies,” I add quickly, nearly stumbling over the words in my haste. 

“Very good,” she praises. “Now I’m going to give you a choice: I can untie your wrists or I can keep them there. Remember, you still can’t touch me without permission, but you could have your hands down if you wanted.” 

I consider this offer. She might give me permission to touch her later, but she might now. I don’t know if I could resist, and then she’d be disappointed in me. I can’t disappoint her, I decide.

“Can I stay tied please?” I ask. 

“Of course. You know how much I like having you all tied and helpless for me. Now, Bellamy, it’s your turn to get off,” she says in a sultry, low tone that makes me groan. Her hands at my waistband dip further down, tugging the fabric along with them. 

“Please,” I half-gasp, half-moan. 

“Lift your hips for me, baby,” she orders. I comply immediately. She pulls my pants off fully and discards them carelessly on the floor. No, not carelessly, she’s not careless with anything. Even as I shiver in the cold air, she is taking care to have her warm hands trailing back up my legs, nails pressing bluntly into the lines of muscle. My skin tingles under hers. She moves slowly over my thighs and stops with her palms on my hip bones, leaning back on her heels. 

“You’re stunning, Bell,” she says, her voice a low, soothing hum. “My good boy.” She brushes her thumbs back and forth as she speaks, seemingly idle motion, but I know her movements are calculated to drive me fucking crazy, and she knows that it’s working. I grip at the ropes to keep myself still. 

“Please,” I beg again. It’s all I can manage. My mind is only full of her and her hands and her body over mine and the faint taste of her still lingering in my mouth. 

“Please what?” she prompts. “I asked you to use your words, didn’t I?” My apology is half-formed before I remember the new rule and I quickly stop myself.

“Please touch me. Anything.” Fragments of larger sentences that still convey all of the want in me. She tilts her head slightly as if pondering something before leaning down and capturing me in a kiss. Not exactly what I was thinking, but still so good that I forget about any of the other filthy thoughts for a moment. 

Then she wraps her hand firmly around my cock and all the thoughts come rushing back in. I groan in pleasure and surprise against her lips. She smirks. 

“Thank you,” I gasp as she starts to move back down my body, and then she wraps her lips around me with the practiced certainty of a woman who knows my body just as well as I know hers. She comes off for a moment and presses wet kisses up the insides of my thighs before going back to it. 

“How’s that, baby?” she asks, a smile on her face. 

“Fuckin’ perfect,” I mumble, right before my cock is between her lips again, which shuts me up, and she's easing it into her mouth, steady, careful, taking her time. Her lips stretch around me, and the wonderful wet heat of her mouth envelopes me bit by bit, and her fingers tightly steady me at the base with her thumb still stroking at his balls. It's not even an issue of self-control to keep myself from thrusting up his hips because I simply can't, they're already as far off the bed as they can go and she's pushing them down insistently with her other hand. The noises I’m making are completely incoherent, and eventually turn into a loud series of moans and gasps as she hums ( _ fucking hums _ ) and sinks deeper down until I can feel the opening of her throat. She glances up to me with watery eyes and angles her head in just a certain way, following the action with a soft gag and suddenly I’m right there, about to fall over the edge.

“Please, can I come?” I beg. “Please, please.” 

“Yeah? You wanna come, baby?” she teases, barely coming off my cock to speak before going back to it. I grab at the ropes, hoping for something to ground me, but I’m completely lost in the feel of her on me and all I can do is plead. 

“I need to come. I need it, I need it.” I gasp in between almost every word. She pulls her mouth off me and replaces it with her hand, giving strong, firm strokes as she leans forward. Her chest presses against mine. Her lips brush my ear while she whispers.

“Come for me, Bellamy.” She kisses me sweetly after the soft words and I’m absolutely fucking finished. 

She stays on me through it, her hand still moving and her lips swallowing my noise. The force of it shakes my whole body. Even after I come down slightly, my legs still twitch with aftershocks. My eyes flicker open before I really realizes that they were closed, and there she is. She’s sitting next to me, slipping the knots on my wrists loose. The blood rushes back all at once and I wince.

“Hey, Bell,” she says, her voice raspy. “Feeling okay?” I can tell she’s being careful not to make much contact right now, just in case I’m too overstimulated, but all I want is her touch. I manage to say some semblance of her name and reach my arms out to her.

“Please?” I ask. She slides her hand under my back and pulls me against her, arms around me, and massages my sore wrists. 

“You did so good, baby,” she praises. “So, so good.” I snuggle up and press my face against her neck, smiling against her skin. 

“Thank you,” I mumble. She sets my arms down and instead cards her fingers through my hair, soothing where she tugged earlier. 

“Such a good boy,” she continues. “Just rest, okay? I’m right here with you. Just rest.”

**Author's Note:**

> please always be safe when practicing BDSM. do your research, communicate with your partner, and ALWAYS establish safety measures, such as safe words, quick release mechanisms, etc.


End file.
